Chapter 10
Thorn rested her face in her palms and splayed fingers, observing the bustling spaceport through the gaps. The white chair under her wobbled if she shifted to the side. The crowds swarmed back and forth before her in this wide, high-ceilinged area, carrying or driving cases, with children and the occasional weird pet in tow. Now and then the roar of a ship’s engines penetrated the walls. Those embarking and those newly arrived mixed.
Her tail tapped against her leg as she tried to rake though her problems.
She had to find her mother.
For that to be top of her mind was a little weird.
Ledderik had helped her clean up. At least her uniform had been intact. A few threads had popped but nothing was noticeable now she wore her red jacket. She’d set her uniform to a simple gray.
She was sore in intimate places, tired, and bewildered.
Even thinking through what had happened was a maze of strangeness.
She was half siren. When her cycle hit full force, males came to her, falling over their feet to get to her, and she lost all sense of right, wrong, self, and morality. It was what it was. She must not blame herself. But maybe she could fix it. There must be a way.
Half siren and so her mother had to be a siren species. Nomad had always avoided telling her which s’kar he’d bedded. Her father had lied to her. That hurt, but he was dead, and she could no longer ask him anything. Her questions must be for her mother.
Last of all, she’d lost the Jocelyn and had been kicked out of her own freakin’ race, and was no longer allowed to call herself s’kar.
This would wreck most people.
She firmed her lips and stared unfocused through the cage of her fingers. Once a starship captain, always a starship captain. She’d get past this and forge a new life.
The night wore on and morning was nigh...or a few hours away.
Be arrested or be gone from BART by morning. She’d bet the Hierarchy had pulled a few strings to get her free to leave. Or maybe the BART authorities wanted her gone and preferred to bluff and not to arrest her?
She sighed, dragging her hands down her face. One big problem. She didn’t know which planet to go to. Siren species were scattered across the galaxy.
The chair beside her creaked.
The ex-cyborg, Led, was still with her and why was that? Like...why? Sex? That seemed a paltry reason.
Nothing was worth this uncertain future. Misfortune dogged her.
“Why are you still here, Led?”
As Fellen Zed he was drawing attention – even sitting as he was – relaxed. Of course he dwarfed her, so people would make comparisons. Smorg was once more sheathed and across his back.
His forearms rested on his thighs and his gaze centered between his feet where his tail lurked. “I’m just wondering when you’ll figure out I’m your best ally.”
“You know I can’t pay you? And I thought you were due at LoL? I thought using a loaner was expensive?”
If the siren attraction was the cause of him staying, why couldn’t she detect it in herself?
“Maybe I like you?”
“It’s the sex isn’t it? You know that’s not ever happening again? That’s not my normal.”
He popped up a brow, regarding her sideways. “Partly the sex. I know it’s not your normal.” His mouth contorted. “Hmmm. Let’s see. To list all the reasons – because it seems like it’ll avoid a lot of messing around and miscommunicating.
“There’s the sexual attraction. And I’m damn curious. And I like killing, and you attract people who want you dead. And...”
She’d almost stopped him at sexual attraction, but he knew. She wasn’t being coy. Sex was this thing that was a part of life, but it wasn’t what had happened to her because that was yuck. Disgusting. She’d had stuff all over her, and even she knew that semen was supposed to go inside and stay there. Weren’t supposed to have a horde of rampant dick-waving males chasing her.
None of that.
Okay. Maybe he thought she wanted more. Maybe she had liked it while it occurred, but it was unnatural to want all that stuff. Her thoughts were running away from her, trampling her thinking.
He wanted more sex, but she planned to stop it dead. Somehow. She wanted to be a s’kar with a regular cycle...because she still hoped to be welcomed into the fold. Back to her people. It was possible?
She swallowed, pushed away the anarchy in her head, sort of sweeping it into a big, icky pile, and she addressed Led. “And what?”
The lines on his brow said this puzzled him. “You have somehow given me purpose. That might sound strange for a cyborg to say, but it’s true. I’ve always had a master to follow, all my three hundred years. Lord Zarblu was the finest. Then he left me. I was lost.” He nodded to himself.
And now he was what? Following her?
He sat up and rapped out the next, “You’re not my master, let’s get that straight. But you’re purpose. My masters supplied that. I was lost. Now I’m found. Simple.”
That was actually ringing with truth and somewhat profound, and it made her feel a little sick.
She had purpose too, but supplying it to another was dangerous. “You mustn’t rely on me. Look what’s happening every time I take a step. It’s chaos. I’ll get you killed.”
“I’ll take that risk. Whatever planet you want to go to, I will deposit this body there and somehow wrangle another from LoL.”
Somehow? “You have the money for it? I hope?”
“Not...yet.”
“Fuck, Led. You’re insane. Worse than I am. I have to find my mother. To clear up who I am and figure out what to do about...about this.” She tapped her chest. “But I don’t know where my mother is or even who she is.”
A blue, cargo-carrying bot broke from the crowd. Twice her height and width, it did a right-hand turn and came toward Thorn, stopping just in time to avoid squashing her, joints hissing.
What the?
It stayed put and she relaxed.
“I see.” Led paused and attained that faraway look that meant he was accessing info. “Siren species are located on forty-three different planets. Luckily they tend to stay in enclaves.”
“Forty-three. Yeah.” She shook her head, frowning. “Doesn’t help.”
“May I speak to your sword?” the bot asked.
“Uhhh... Where’d you come from? Spaceport Authority? A ship?”
“A ship. I am a clone of the Jocelyn, Thorn, but I cannot speak to you.”
Slowly, she sat up straighter. This was Jocelyn? “Is that legal? Possible with your parameters?”
“It is.”
Jocelyn had always been a she to her. Cramming all the memory and programming of the ship into this bot, would be impossible. Still, if a clone, this was her at the core. Jocelyn must have a reason to do this.
“Sure. You can talk to Smorg.”
“Hi there, big girl.” Smorg sounded amused.
The bot leaned over and held out her hands. “In private, please.”
“Led. Can she? Have Smorg to talk to?”
He unhitched the sword belt from his shoulders and handed Smorg to the bot, watched her walk away without comment. Then he looked at Thorn.
“Any clue what this is about?”
“No. Not one.”
She just prayed it was something good. If there was any sort of quota, she’d used up all her bad for one day.